Death Not Included
by DinerGuy
Summary: A collection of ficlets about one of our favorite subjects: Shawn whump! Because, really, how can there be enough?
1. Sick

Events are based on something that happened to me at work one day. I just changed the characters and the setting.

And thanks to Starphyer for the quick and awesome beta!

Originally written October 2009

Disclaimer: If it's publicly recognizable, it isn't mine.

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"Shawn?"

"I think he had a seizure or something!"

"Somebody call 911!"

"Shawn, can you hear me?"

The voices sounded as if they were coming from far off. It was as if he were on one end of a tunnel and people were calling to him from the other side.

His side of the tunnel was nice and comfortable, so he figured he'd ignore them and stay right where he was.

"Shawn!"

Was he dreaming? He certainly felt comfortable enough to be asleep.

"Come on, Shawn; open your eyes."

Whoever was calling him wasn't letting up. There was no way he could sleep with that noise, so, as much as he wanted to stay right where he was, he blinked his eyes open.

Several faces came into view, all with worried expressions that abated somewhat when they saw he was awake.

He blinked again, focusing on the faces clustered above him. There was Gus, of course, and Jules. The chief and Buzz were there, too, along with a few other cops from the department.

"Can you hear me?" Juliet asked, her voice still worried.

Shawn nodded. The room continued to come back into view, and he could feel the floor under him now. Why had he thought it was so comfortable before? The hard tiles were doing nothing to make him want to stay where he was.

He started to get up, but someone put a hand on his chest. "Don't try to move just yet."

"Do you know your name?" someone else asked. Shawn thought it sounded like the chief, but he hadn't been paying attention.

"Shawn Spencer," he managed to croak. At least, it sounded like a croak to him. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Shawn." There. That was better.

"Do you know where you are?" That was Gus' voice this time. His friend looked the most worried out of everyone.

"The station. And it's Tuesday morning," he added for good measure.

Gus grinned slightly. "Good."

Shawn could hear Lassiter in the background, yelling at someone. "What do you mean make sure he's responsive? He was on the floor _unconscious_! Shouldn't you at least come check him out?" There was a pause, then the yelling resumed. "I don't care if we do have medical training. Your job is to respond to emergencies!" The detective sighed loudly and turned to the others. "How is he?"

"He seems to be okay," Juliet responded.

"I'm fine," Shawn assured them from his place on the floor. The last thing he wanted was an ambulance, because that meant a ride to the hospital. If there was anywhere he didn't want to be, other than a forest full of raccoons, it was the hospital.

A hand appeared and laid a wet cloth on his forehead. The cool dampness felt good against his skin.

"Really, I'm all right," Shawn said again.

"Yes; he seems to be acting normally!" Lassiter snapped into the phone. "But you still should – Fine. Yes, we'll call you if he gets worse, but if he does, you're going to regret not coming out sooner!"

Shawn winced at the noise as the phone slammed into its cradle.

"Let's try to get you up," Buzz said. He and another officer reached down and gently put their hands under Shawn's shoulders. "Ready?"

With their help, Shawn stumbled to his feet. Someone pressed a cup of water into his hand while the policemen helped him to a chair.

The small crowd stayed around him, until Lassiter shooed most of them away. "All right, people, this isn't a sightseeing trip! Get back to your jobs!"

"What happened?" Juliet asked. "Has this ever happened before?"

"No." Shawn shook his head gently. He could feel a major headache coming on. "I can't remember it ever happening before. The room just started spinning, and I woke up on the ground."

Gus sighed. "I bet it was that medicine."

"What medicine?"

"Shawn was coming down with a cold this morning, so he went out and bought some generic brand medicine at the store. I told him not to take it before working; the box lists dizziness as a side effect. And you shouldn't take unfamiliar medicine before doing something like working."

Shawn sighed. "Gus, quit being such a gummy bear. I'm fine."

"Yeah, Shawn, that's why you passed out on the floor just now."

"I didn't pass out. I was making sure it was up to safety standards. You know, most accidents occur because the floors aren't properly insulated."

"No, they don't. And that didn't even make sense."

"Of course it did."

"I think he'll be fine." Gus shook his head.

"See, what'd I tell you? Can I get back to work now?"

"No, Shawn, you can't get back to work. You're going home to rest."

"But, Gus," Shawn whined, "I'm fine. You said so yourself."

"Mr. Spencer," the chief spoke up. "I'm not allowing you to exert yourself after what just happened. I'm ordering you to get some rest for the remainder of the day. If you feel up to it, you can come in tomorrow."

"All right," Shawn sighed. "Let's go, Gus." He started to stand from the chair, but teetered a little.

Gus grabbed his arm. "Come on, Shawn."

As the two exited the building, Shawn called back over his shoulder. "Don't forget; your floor probably needs to be re-insulated!"


	2. Buried

Thanks to both Lozza and Starphyer (PFers) for betaing this chapter. It seriously would be a lot more lame without their help. And, Loz, as much as I fussed about having to go and write in more emotions, your insistence made it better. :)

Originally written October 2009.

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It was dark.

That was the first thing Shawn noticed when he regained consciousness. It was so dark, in fact, that he wasn't even sure if he'd opened his eyes.

He tried to sit up, but that was when he noticed the next thing.

It was cramped.

He'd barely lifted his head an inch off the ground when it struck something hard.

Moving his arms to the sides, away from him, he found more wood. His stomach clenched in panic as he frantically felt around his body.

He was surrounded by hard, splintery wood. He couldn't even point his toes without tapping wood.

He barely had time to wonder where he was before it all came rushing back.

He remembered running into the graveyard, intent on catching up to the criminal they were trying to apprehend. For some reason, he didn't foresee Tomlinson ambushing him.

Where'd the guy find a shovel in so short a time anyway?

Shawn realized the man must have concealed him in a coffin after knocking him out. The only question was if he was underground or in a storage area.

Pushing against the lid, he quickly decided it was the former.

Enclosed spaces were not high on his list of favorite things. The darkness was so complete it felt like it was pressing down upon him.

He had to get out.

His breathing quickened as he began to push against the sides of the casket, trying to find a weak spot. Ignoring the logical part of his brain that told him he would still be underground if he managed to break through, he pawed along the wood, earning himself several splinters in the process.

The air around him began to grow warmer, and Shawn frantically glanced around, as if he could possibly see something in the darkness.

Then the reason came to mind, and he gulped, trying to still his breathing. He was using up what little air he did have, and it wouldn't last forever.

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"He has to be here somewhere!" Gus ran a hand across his head nervously.

A few strands of hair fell across Juliet's face as she shook her head. Her forehead creased with worry. "I'm sorry, Gus. We can't find him."

"Figures Spencer would go and get himself into some sort of trouble," Lassiter grunted, turning to the prisoner standing with them. "Where is he?"

Tomlinson grinned. "You'll never find him."

"Where is he?" Lassiter repeated, harsher than the first time, getting in the man's face.

"Could be anywhere. It's an awful big cemetery. Awful lot of graves."

Gus' eyes opened wider. "Are you saying you _buried_ him?"

The other man shrugged. "Maybe."

"Where?"

"Doesn't matter. He's nearly out of air by now." The grin on the man's face could only be described as sick.

"Oh no." Gus surveyed the graveyard with worried eyes. There was just too much ground and too little time to cover it all. His heart sank and he bit his lip as the realization sank in. He might never see his friend again.

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Shawn pushed at the lid of the box, frantically trying to think of a way to free himself, but to no avail. All he managed was to add to his splinter collection.

The darkness encroached upon him. He'd never realized how heavy utter darkness felt, but now, the lack of light weighed down on him, filling him with loneliness. He'd never felt so utterly abandoned before in his life.

He had no way of telling how much time had passed, but he began to feel a little dizzy. A sweat broke out on his forehead, and he realized his breathing had become much more shallow than normal.

It didn't take a genius to know he was running out of breathable air.

That was when he really began to panic. Something in his brain told him to stop pushing against the sides of his prison, that he needed to conserve his strength so that the air would last longer, but he didn't obey.

All he could think about was how much he needed to get out.

It was so dark, he didn't even notice when his vision started fading. He was awake one moment, and the next, he slipped into nothingness.

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They spread out through the immediate vicinity. Lassiter's reasoning was that hardly any time had passed between Shawn going into the graveyard and the rest of them arriving. Tomlinson wouldn't have had a lot of time after subduing Shawn to both bury him and get very far away.

It was Gus who found the freshly dug area without a tombstone. It was underneath a group of trees, and there were several spades scattered across the turned earth. It appeared the landscapers had left their tools and gone on a break.

When Lassiter snatched up one of the shovels, a wet red patch caught his eye. He turned to the others grimly. "This has to be it. He couldn't have buried him too far down. There hasn't been enough time."

Juliet snatched up a shovel and plunged it into the ground, desperate determination playing at her features.

Gus followed suit, though his strokes were more panicked than Juliet's purposeful digging.

After placing the incriminating tool to the side, Lassiter grabbed another shovel and joined them. The head detective attacked the dirt mercilessly, quickly helping to widen the hole.

They dug feverishly, desperately trying to reach Shawn in time. Lassiter was right in thinking it hadn't been long enough for the coffin to be buried too deeply, and their efforts were soon rewarded with a solid _thunk_.

Dropping their tools, the three scraped away the last of the dirt from the lid of the coffin. Lassiter and Gus yanked the lid open, allowing light and air to flood the interior.

"Shawn!" Juliet's face lightened a shade. She had been bracing herself for the worst, but the sight that actually met her eyes was disheartening.

The consultant's face was pale, and his lips were tinged with blue. His chest was perfectly still, his eyes remaining closed.

Gus's stomach churned with fear. His friend looked dead, lying in the coffin the way he was. He closed his eyes, telling himself that Shawn wasn't really dead, that his friend was going to make it. "Is … is he all right?" he managed to ask.

Lassiter leaned over and felt Shawn's neck for a pulse. His eyes narrowed in worry. "It's there but just barely."

As Gus whipped out his cell phone, Lassiter motioned to his partner. "Help me get him out."

They laid Shawn on the ground beside the hole, and Lassiter started pumping his chest. Juliet hesitated a moment at the sight of the pale psychic lying stretched along the ground.

"Come on, O'Hara!" Lassiter snapped. "We've got to get him breathing again!"

She dropped to her knees beside Shawn's head. Lassiter counted the seconds aloud as he kept up the compressions. When he reached 15, Juliet leaned over and pinched Shawn's nose shut.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed her face against his, releasing her air into his mouth. His chest rose and fell as the breath went through his airway, but there was still no response from him. She breathed into his mouth again, praying it would make a difference.

Lassiter grunted in frustration and recommenced the up and down motions, then Juliet put her mouth to Shawn's again, giving him another breath. When nothing came of it, she repeated the process, but still to no avail.

Gus snapped his phone shut and tucked it back in his pocket, his eyes playing worriedly over the three people on the ground. "He's gonna be okay, right?" His fists clenched and unclenched as he tried to hold himself together. "Please tell me he's going to make it."

Whatever he'd been hoping to hear, he got no answer from anyone. The detectives were too intent on the rescue procedure.

"Right?" Gus repeated, his brow furrowing as he silently begged for an affirmative answer.

Shawn chose that moment to start to come to, eyelids flickering as he coughed. He gasped, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

"Shawn? Can you hear me?" Juliet asked, slightly out of breath. She leaned over to study his face. "Are you all right?"

Still breathing heavily, Shawn shifted his eyes to meet hers. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good," Lassiter stated, standing and brushing off his pants. "The ambulance should be here any moment now."

"Don't you ever do that to me again, Shawn!" Gus told his friend sternly, crouching down next to him. "Are you sure you're all right? You could've died down there!"

"Gus … slow down." Shawn gave them a lopsided grin. "I'm fine." He tried to stand up to prove his point but sagged back to the ground, clutching his stomach as the world began to spin.

"Shawn!" Gus reached out to steady the other man, lowering him back to the ground. "I think you should stay put for now."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Shawn waved a hand at Gus. "Shouldn't you be worrying about Tommy?"

"Tomlinson?" Gus knew what Shawn meant. "We already caught him. But not quickly enough. Shawn, you could have been killed! You weren't even breathing when we dug you up!"

"I know." He nodded. His brow furrowed for a moment as thoughts raced through his brain, then his eyes widened slightly. "Dude … did you have to do CPR on me?"

"Lassiter and Juliet did. They saved your life, Shawn."

"Lassie …" Shawn's voice took on a worried tone. He glanced at their positions relative to him and relaxed, turning to Juliet. "So, Jules, how did you like our make out session?" A sly smile played around his mouth.

Lassiter snorted, and Gus' brows went up. Juliet's cheeks reddened.

"Shawn, we did not –"

"Oh, you don't have to deny it, Jules. I know you liked it. If you want, we can continue this later. My place or yours?"

"Shawn … You know what? I'm not even going to dignify that with a response." Juliet turned to the others. "I'm going to wait by the road to show the paramedics where we are."

With that, she spun on her heel and walked back to the cemetery's entrance.

"Was it something I said?" Shawn asked, blinking innocently at Gus.


End file.
